The Heiress of Elven Kingdoms
by Ripper101
Summary: Sequel to 'Curse of the House of Elrond' and 'Princess of Mirkwood'. Just how long can elves stand the persistent pull of instinct? [Complete]
1. 1

Author's Note: Continuation from 'Curse of the House of Elrond' and 'The Princess of Mirkwood'. Follows Bronwe, Elrond's youngest and supposedly special child as she lives through the years of Sauron's resurgence. This particular chapter shows her at around eight years of life. This is therefore set eight years after the last two prequels.

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"Ada?"  
  
Elrond suppressed a groan very quickly, the little voice disturbing him just at the one point in time when he needed to preserve his train of thought. He put down the quill and looked down with a faint smile. "Yes, Bronwe?"  
  
"Where is Arwen?"  
  
"She has gone to Lothlorien to see Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. Why?"  
  
"I want to play with her beads," Bronwe said brightly, "May I, Ada? She won't mind if you say yes."  
  
Elrond refrained from laughing by the shortest of narrow escapes. Arwen's collection of beads was her pride and joy. All her friends and relatives were aware that the only gift one needed to give Arwen was a beautifully made unique bead from somewhere or nowhere and she was happy as a clam. The Elf Lord could just imagine the damage that his youngest could do to that valuable- and breakable- collection.  
  
"No, Bronwe," he answered firmly, "Arwen has asked you not to play with them and you will respect her wishes. When she returns you may ask her yourself."  
  
He turned back to the speech he was trying to write and felt a little hand tug at his robes again. He looked back down.  
  
"But why not now?"  
  
"Bronwe, pen-neth, I am busy. I cannot allow you to play with Arwen's beads and Arwen is not here to say yes herself. Think of another game to play, iel nin."  
  
"But I am bored, Ada!"  
  
"Play with Faer."  
  
"Faer is a cat," she pouted.  
  
Elrond sighed. He loved his daughter dearly, but sometimes... he often wondered what Herdir had placed in the fertility potion to put so much energy into her. He had asked, and had examined all the ingredients with a trained eye but nothing had seemed out of place or especially different. He had eventually ascribed it to the Valar and the frustratingly murky future of the little elfling.  
  
"Were you writing to Ada?"  
  
Had anyone heard it, they might have been very confused. As far as the Elf Lord was concerned, he understood the question referred to Legolas without thought. "Yes. Sit down, Bronwe; I need to tell you something."  
  
She scrambled up into his lap without another word, not bothered if she were to dirty his robes or upset his desk. Elrond knew enough from his previous three children not to care either way. He settled her properly and then looked serious.  
  
"Your Ada sent me a letter this morning," he began softly, "He cannot come next week."  
  
Eyes as blue as the summer sky grew round. They did not fill with tears for the child never cried, but they adopted a look of immeasurable sadness. "Why?" she whispered.  
  
"He wanted to, very much. But there is trouble in Mirkwood and he does not have the time. He promises to come as soon as he can. But that may be in a few more months. Iel nin, he says to tell you he loves you. He also says he wants another cup of mud the next time he comes; why is that?"  
  
Bronwe giggled and flushed under her father's caustic eye, trying to hide the sound in her hand. Elrond was reminded of Legolas' enthusiastic belief that his daughter was the prettiest elfling in all of Arda. It was Elrond's belief that Bronwe was also the most mischievous. She not only had Arwen's air of innocence and persuasiveness, but the twins' mind for tricks. Erestor was avoiding her at all costs.  
  
"Bronwe?"  
  
"It was tea," she protested, still laughing.  
  
The Lord of Imladris felt his control over his smile slipping and welcomed the tap at the door with relief. Glorfindel looked in and smiled.  
  
"I see you have Bronwe here," the seneschal remarked, "Perhaps that is for the best. There is an alarmingly bright pink cat roaming the Hall of Fire."  
  
Elrond's jaw dropped. Bronwe had dyed the cat bright pink? He groaned at the thought of Faer's displeasure. Bronwe only smirked in a far from penitential way. Indeed, she looked rather like a well-fed kitten herself. Standing, he planted her firmly on the floor and glared down at her, softening the look just a little in deference to her tender years.  
  
"Bronwe?"  
  
"Yes, Ada?"  
  
Glorfindel was dying to be elsewhere so he could roll on the floor in laughter. The daughter was currently doing a very good imitation of her father, her arms crossed and her delicately drawn eyebrow rising as she gazed up at him. Elrond shot him a dark glare and he stilled. He was almost undone as one of her tiny feet began to tap impatiently against the floor.  
  
"Bronwe, why is Faer dyed pink?"  
  
"She wanted me to do it." No fuss, no bother- just total belief.  
  
"Why would the cat want to be pink? If she were meant to be pink, she would have been born pink!"  
  
"Ada, were you born without your robes?"  
  
Elrond stared. "Pardon?" he gasped.  
  
"Well, if you were born without robes, then why do you wear them?"  
  
Glorfindel burst out laughing, unable to control himself any longer. This little one had his unflinching adoration, unwed and childless as he himself was. And she adored him too. Elrond recovered from his shock while sourly watching Bronwe squeal as she was swept up into the Balrog Slayer's strong arms and flung up to the ceiling. He would have found it funny too, except he shuddered to think where her sense of reasoning would land her if she had no morals.  
  
Glorfindel finally saw the look on the face of his Lord and whispered something in Bronwe's ear. She looked too and instantly calmed. She was set gently on her feet where she walked back to position and stared at her shoes.  
  
"Bronwe, it may seem funny now, but such a trick can be quite dangerous," Elrond began, "Suppose Faer has swallowed some of the dye? She may get ill."  
  
"She will?"  
  
"She might, iel nin."  
  
"I- I don't want her to get ill," the child confirmed, shaking her dark head vigorously.  
  
Elrond sighed and bent down to meet her eye-to-eye. "Go and bring her to me and we shall see what we can do, hmmm? And please, Bronwe, do not dye anything or anyone any colour at all for a few more years."  
  
She nodded vigorously and took off out the door, running like the little rabbit that Elrohir nicknamed her. Glorfindel paused only long enough to see her disappear down the corridor before shutting the door securely. "She is a handful, my Lord," he commented dryly.  
  
Grey eyes laughed with him even as the mouth remained stern and unsmiling. "Yes. Where she gets it from, I do not know." A delicately arched dark eyebrow rose as the blond choked. "Was it something I said?"  
  
"No, my Lord," Glorfindel murmured, "I was only remembering a trick that a friend of mine used to play, one that involved putting glue on the seats of the chairs in the dining hall during a feast?"  
  
Elrond coughed and sat down, hiding his sudden flush by turning hurriedly back to his letter. "An interesting prank," was all he would say, "Was there something you wanted in particular?"  
  
"Yes, my Lord. Erestor asked what was to be done about Bronwe's begetting day celebration. Will Legolas be here? And what about others her age?"  
  
"Subject impressionable young elflings to my little orcling? Glorfindel, surely you would not do so!"  
  
"Talk sense, Elrond!"  
  
"Oh. Are you accusing me of speaking nonsense? I am surprised at you. Such unbecoming familiarity and severity to the one to whom you owe allegiance!"  
  
Glorfindel sighed morosely. Once Elrond was in this mood, there was no turning him. Or reasoning with him! Indeed, there were only two who could do so- Legolas and Arwen. Bronwe was too small and Elladan and Elrohir were too much away. It would end with someone threatening to hit the legendary elven warrior and that, knowing Elrond's self-defence skills very intimately, would be a mistake.  
  
"Have my sons returned?"  
  
"They have not. But we do not expect them for another two days. But you haven't answered my question yet, my Lord. Erestor really does want to finalize with the guest list. He needs to inform the chefs of the numbers."  
  
"Legolas cannot make it," Elrond said heavily.  
  
Glorfindel looked surprised and then compressed his lips so as not to say anything that would be out of place. It was none of his business, he told himself; it was nothing to him if a father could not be there for his daughter's begetting day.  
  
Elrond's sorrow lifted at that familiar look of disapproval. "He cannot leave Mirkwood now; the spiders are becoming bolder. And the orcs are pressing ever inwards."  
  
"This sounds serious. Should we not send aid?"  
  
"It is," Elrond agreed wryly, "But Thranduil still, uh, disapproves of seeking my assistance. Legolas spent an unhealthy part of his letter trying to mediate between the seriousness that keeps him from his daughter and the promise that the trouble is not that wide-spread. I do not know what it is that makes him think I will be offended."  
  
"It is no secret that there is tension between you and the King of Mirkwood, mellon nin."  
  
"Not by my hand, I promise you! He still persists in blaming me for what was not my fault. I do not understand him... perhaps I should send a tentatively bland offer of help?"  
  
Glorfindel laughed at the worried look on the Elf Lord's face, but shook his head. "It would only anger him. Will he be attending the day's celebration?"  
  
"Ada?"  
  
Both started as the little voice called through the doorway. A piteous miaow accompanied it, reminding them of why the little child was coming back. Glorfindel obligingly opened the door and then the child was once more scrambling up into the Lord of Imladris' lap.  
  
Elrond took the cat with a long-suffering sigh and stared distastefully at the bedraggled pink fur while his daughter happily settled in against him. He put the abused cat on the desk and gently checked her over. Bronwe sat quiet, her head against his chest and her eyes round as berries while she soberly observed everything.  
  
Glorfindel watched in amusement as father and daughter sat in silence, haloed by the cloudy sky through the window. Such was the picture he had observed for the past fifty years. It was becoming all the sweeter as such peaceful moments became rarer.  
  
For his children alone Elrond would smooth his habitual frown of concentrated worry. For his children alone would he talk of inconsequential things like pink cats and parties. And for one elf alone would he ease away the mask enough to confide his fears. Glorfindel had hoped to see the tensions lessen as the day of Legolas' return loomed closer. But now... he shook his head in frustration.  
  
"Glorfindel?"  
  
He looked down to see Bronwe. Absently he picked her off the floor, holding her against his hip as Elrond let the cat go. "The dye will come out soon enough," he heard, "We need only leave it be."  
  
He nodded and let Bronwe go when she asked. The patter of little feet retreated and he turned back to face the look of enquiry on his Lord's face.  
  
"You do not look happy," Elrond observed quietly.  
  
"I'm not," Glorfindel admitted, "This darkness... it is growing too fast and we are not ready. There is too much at stake for us all if we fail. This business in Mirkwood has me worried."  
  
"It worries me too. Albeit for different reasons," the half-elf admitted, tugging at a braid before pushing it behind his ear.  
  
"The Prince will be fine," his friend assured him, "He is a rather lucky person. And that combined with his skill makes him very deadly to spiders and orcs."  
  
"He is also accident-prone. Especially when Estel is with him."  
  
"Estel is...?"

Elrond nodded.

"They will be here for healing in a few days after saving someone from deadly peril."  
  
"Tis what I said," Elrond laughed. "But pray the Valar will smile on their sorry heads a few more months. Once they are under my roof I will breath easier."  
  
"As will we all," Glorfindel muttered fervently, "There is no telling what will happen when Estel and Legolas get together! They are almost as bad as your Bronwe!"  
  
"Well, I do try to remind people that she is his daughter. She must inherit something from him."  
  
"Ai Elbereth! She is the daughter of both of you! We are doomed!"


	2. 2

"Legolas? Legolas!"

The blond turned with a start, staring down from the tree in which he'd been sitting to blink his enquiry at the man looking up to him. "Yes?" he asked politely.

"Legolas, we require you on the ground," Aragorn sighed, "And preferably thinking clearly." He waited only until the archer reached his side before leading him away. "There have been sightings of wargs down near the east. They ravage all in their path and seem to be in alliance with the band of orcs we have been pursuing."

Legolas cursed softly in elvish and hurried to look at the rough map that one of his soldiers handed him. Speaking quickly and quietly with the ones who, like him, were most familiar with that part of the woods, they decided on a plan of campaign. The map was hastily stuffed back into a compartment in the other elf's quiver and all bags were deposited in the guards post high in the trees above them. No provisions but what they could carry in pouches and nothing else except weapons.

"Aragorn, I need you to follow the rear guards," he began, not noticing overmuch that he was close to ordering the exiled King of Men, "Proceed straight through the woods; take no turn or winding path. The rest will follow me; we seek to make our way to the back of the wargs. Then we drive them towards you where they will be trapped between us. Is that clear?"

"Very," Aragorn commented. The plan was simple but more than effective. "You will travel through the trees? I thought so. Some of us had best stay on the ground. The wargs do not fall so well with arrows. Come, mellon nin; we await your lead."

Legolas nodded and pushed away, climbing gracefully back into the boughs of the thick overhead foliage. Four of his men accompanied him and the rest waited for a few minutes before setting off after them, running fleetly over the ground.

Aragorn, for one, was quite certain that he hated travelling through Mirkwood's forests. For one thing because it was too dark and crowded on the ground, and for another because the wood elves he fought with simply did not seem to realize this. Something twisted beneath his foot and it was only by sheer luck that his ankle did not follow. Swiftly he ran with the elves, years spent training in Imladris holding him in good stead in Mirkwood.

Four hours this furious pace kept up. And then there was a sudden low whistle like the sound of a bird and all the elves with him stopped and hid. Some made for the low branches of trees, others took to the thick bushes. Aragorn chose a bush; he was not enamoured of jumping down on the back of a warg.

Silently he let a ray of sunlight glint off his sword's polished blade, reminding them that he would give the orders to attack. The inexperienced young elves that had been pressed into duty were happy enough to follow the exalted lead of a Ranger and their Prince, both of whom were lauded as great warriors and skilled warg-killers.

Aragorn decided bitterly that the next time Legolas innocently asked for his help in a small matter, he would run away as fast as he could!

It was no more than a few moments later that the growling, snarling sounds of wargs in chase came to their ears. Aragorn looked up, caught sight of the first few of them and looked to the trees. A flash of green and then one of the teasing archers loosed an arrow that pinned the foremost warg's foot to the forest floor.

"Now!"

The elves were out and swarming in minutes, taking opportunity of the confusion of the fell beasts to fell them. Aragorn had no idea where Legolas was. He could not see any sign of the blond and hoped that the abundant stream of arrows flying from all directions was in part from his bow. He shuddered to imagine what his foster father would do to him if Legolas did not live to visit his daughter.

Carcasses rolled to the ground and the sound of yelps and elvish cries filled the air. Swords and knives hacked on the ground and very slowly the pack of wargs began to be pushed back. But the purpose was not to force them into retreat, but to kill them. So when they attempted to flee, Aragorn found himself gathering up the breath to give chase. The archers had already moved to form a wider ring around the impromptu battleground, hoping to pick off as many wargs as it were possible for them.

A snap of a branch and then a blond body fell to a branch perilously close to a warg savaging an elf. Legolas grabbed a branch on his way to the ground and gulped. The warg looked up. There was a split second stare between them and then the Prince slid to the ground, rolled and came up with his knives. Teeth snapped at him and claws ripped a fiery trench in his right arm, making him cry out and step back.

But the carefully folded piece of parchment in his pocket crackled warningly, reminding him of his goal in completing this raid as quickly as possible. He sighed; even from that distance Elrond had the power to force his actions. So he got on with it and slit the throat of the warg before ripping through its spine. The creature gave a pitiful howl and collapsed to die bleeding into the churned snow.

When the silence began to descend again, the elves got to their feet and looked around. A few had indeed escaped and Legolas quickly gave orders to follow them. Most of them ran fleetly in pursuit but the badly wounded stayed behind to let Aragorn tend to them. He had continued to carry his bag of healing equipment and carefully began to clean and bandage them.

It was dusk when the last straggling group of elves returned to the clearing. Legolas practically fell to the grass, breathing so hard that he surrendered his arm without protest to be cleaned.

Aragorn knew his friend far too well to demand to know why he had continued on with a wound this deep. He simply locked the incident away in his head, ready to produce it when Elrond demanded to know why his love was returned to Imladris not quite as whole as the last time he had left.

Not of course, the man mused, that either of the two were lovers. Indeed, everyone knew they desired it, but even Arwen had given up attempting to make her blinded Ada see that perhaps staring across the table was not quite as much fun as actually being able to kiss.

"Aragorn? Estel!"

"Hmmm?"

"Estel, may I have my arm back?"

Legolas was giving him a very patient look, as if trying to humour an idiot. So Aragorn growled low in his throat and tightened his grip. "It needs to be wrapped," he said waspishly.

Legolas blinked but meekly held still. "Why so upset, mellon nin? We have killed all but three of them and the pack has been destroyed. Now all that remains is to hunt the orcs and we will be at ease for a few weeks."

"Legolas, how long will this take?" Aragorn interrupted, looking up with narrowed eyes, "We should leave for Imladris in another few days. Lord Elrond will be expecting us."

The blue eyes suddenly became very interested in a patch of mud on the human's trousers. A long, calloused finger began to absently trace the edges of the patch, making Aragorn raise an eyebrow.

"I shall not be going to Imladris," Legolas sighed, looking up with tired eyes, "I do not know if I will go this year at all."

"What? But Bronwe's begetting day- surely you will want to be there when she celebrates that!"

"How?" A sudden slender foot kicked out from under the blond and dislodged a pile of bloodied snow. "Look at this, Aragorn! My people are plagued daily by evil and darkness. How can I leave them to fight it alone while I sit comfortably in an Elven sanctuary?"

Aragorn threw the arm away from him, bad tempered enough without having to deal with a guilt-tormented friend. "You and Ada both," he snapped, "When will you realize that as many raids and attacks as you commandeer, there will never be enough to keep all your people safe! You cannot kill every orc or warg or spider in these forests! Your daughter needs you, Legolas. She rarely sees you as it is and you did promise to be there for her begetting day. She waits for you!"

"She will understand..."

"No, she will not!"

All the elves stood uncertainly to the side and watched as their Prince and his best friend argued, shouting at each other in tiredness and misplaced frustration. The snow and grass was churned up and stained with the fight, and the bodies of the wargs still needed to be disposed of. More than that, blood, both dark and bright red stained the ground, making a sordid carpet underfoot.

Legolas noticed the stares and glanced around, flushing when he realized what his men had heard. Never did he lose his temper in their midst; for if he could not control himself, how could he hope to control them? Had any of them done this, he would have reprimanded them sharply. Knowing that, he pulled the letter from his pocket and threw it at the equally embarrassed human, stalking off to find some measure of peace with himself.

Aragorn stalked off in the other direction, fingers clenched on the delicate paper as if trying not to simply tear it and fling it into the bushes. But once away, calm came back slowly and he opened it and read it. And sighed. For Elrond had already soothed the archer's fears for their daughter's potential pain, promising that he would be missed but she would understand.

Which was fine, but Aragorn was not quite sure that Legolas could read between the lines of the graceful writing. Because even if Bronwe did not need Legolas to be present at the feast, Elrond surely did.


	3. 3

Author's Note: Hey guys!!! We're back in business!!! Anyway, just to make sure, this is set only eight years after 'Princess of Mirkwood'. I've touched up the first and second chapters slightly for this reason. Let me know if there's something I've missed. Oh, and thanks for the support while I've been fiddling around with this.

* * *

"Ada, you cannot order me to leave," Legolas growled, fingers clenching on the cup of wine that had been pushed into his hand.

"Legolas, you are needed in Imladris," Thranduil sighed, "I know you wished to lead the attacks against the ors, but we do have other warriors, lest you forget. One of them may take your place while we attend Bronwe's begetting day."

"We?" The sweet voice was rising dangerously close to indignant shouting. "Both of us are going?"

Thranduil took the time to sip the rich wine he had poured them, amused eyes watching his fidgeting son over the rim of his cup. "Yes," he resumed, "You are a father and I am a grandfather and we had both better be in attendance."

"Elrond and I have..."

"Lord Elrond cannot raise a child single-handedly, much though he seems capable of it! Come, ion nin, we cannot simply leave our little Bronwe to the mercy of those of Imladris, can we?"

Legolas offered an unwilling smile, blue eyes warming just slightly from the frost that had previously lit them. He shook his fair head and leaned back in the chair. "Ah, but Erestor will have charge of her soon, Ada. And he too is an elf of Imladris."

Thranduil refused to concede- "He is just one exception amongst many, ion nin. What can one elf do alone? Nay, we must hurry to give him support in his difficult task!"

Legolas laughed out loud, ruefully letting go of anger with his father's teasing. Truly he did want to go. He hated missing any important day for his daughter, hated that he had never been there to see her first step or hear her first word. And visits had been less frequent as those dark shadows began to attack his lands. No, it may feel wrong to go; but he was not about to let himself look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Very well, Ada. When will we leave?"

"With your human friend, Legolas. The day after tomorrow, was it not?"

"Aye, Aragorn leaves two days from now. Are you sure, my King?"

The King looked up, face set in lines of serious belief. "No, I am not," Thranduil admitted, "but that is why we must go. Who knows what Bronwe may face on her next begetting day? And the time has come to ask Imladris for advise on our troubles, for they face somewhat of the same thing. I will return as soon as possible, but you... you must stay and be with your family for a few months. No, do not argue with me. As your King, I command it."

Legolas offered a bow of respect and acquisition and left, striding through the palace to find his friend. Without thinking he made his way to the forests just outside of the grounds, listening intently for the sound of quiet singing. Ah yes, there is was!

"Aragorn? Mellon nin, you really must stop running out into the forests like this."

The human looked up from the book he was reading and smiled. They had already sworn truce over their last argument a few days ago. Nevertheless, he judged it would be a good thing if he was to leave soon. Legolas was becoming unbearably frustrated as the days passed. It would have been amusing if it were not Aragorn who kept getting snapped at.

"Legolas, I'm running distance from the safety of the palace and I am well prepared for any attack," he reminded him.

Legolas looked at his friend and rolled his eyes. "Yes," he snorted, "And I suppose you were going to read them to death? Where is your sword, Aragorn? Or your knife?"

Aragorn dropped his book and looked around him, eventually looking up with a sheepish expression. "I, uh, must have left them in my room," he coughed.

"Perhaps we should return for them?"

Aragorn rose with whatever dignity was left to him and fell into step with the wood elf. Both contemplated the peace and solitude of their surroundings, wishing that war and death did not have to intrude in such an ugly way. But there was no help for it. War would have to be fought and Aragorn had a small inkling that he would be required to play a part.

"I have news for you," the voice broke into his thoughts and drew his eyes to the speaker strolling casually at his side, "I shall be accompanying you to Imladris."

Aragorn grinned and clapped a hand to Legolas' shoulder. "You will be welcome on the journey, Legolas," he chuckled, "And I would hate to say 'I told you so'; however..."

"This has nothing to do with what you told me or did not tell me, human! I would advise you to remember that." But the wrathful words were self-mocking and the blond offered a small shrug of defeat at the amusement being levelled at him. "Ada will come too, if you do not mind."

"No, obviously. My journeys are too often made alone. Besides, if I bring the party from Mirkwood in with me to Imladris, I shall be the most beloved man in all of Rivendell!"

A brow rose in silent enquiry.

"Bronwe will be delighted that I brought her Ada and her At'ada," Aragorn counted off, "Erestor will be thankful that I ensured no harm befell his lover, Lord Elrond will likely smile much more than he is wont to do because of the sight of you, which will make his children very happy and in the mood to coddle me. No, I see no problem with riding with you."

"Orc-brained," Legolas growled, turning pink at the very mention of his former lover.

Aragorn laughed and ducked a swing at his head, prompting an infantile chase through the remainder of the forest and into the palace, both shouting playful insults and empty threats at the other until they reached Aragorn's guest room and collapsed inside it, indulging in an enormous fit of the giggles.

And two weeks away from Mirkwood, Bronwe seemed to be undergoing the same treatment from her twin brothers.

The two had caught her interestedly going through their drawers and pulling their clothes onto the floor. Which had inevitably led to them chasing her around the Last Homely House until they caught her in the Hall of Fire and proceeded to tickle some sense into her head.

Squirming and squealing on the floor, with her hair tangled and a smudge of dirt on her nose, Elladan finally paused enough to let her sit up. Elrohir added a last wiggle of his fingers for good measure and followed suit, the both staring at their tiny sister with identical looks of serious reflection.

Bronwe finally stifled her laughter and sat still, demurely pulling her clothes straight and blinking innocently at her brothers. A lock of hair fell into her blue eyes.

"Bronwe, you know you shouldn't be in our room without permission," Elladan said gently, "It is not nice to do something like that."

"But I was..."

"No!" Elrohir was slightly more angry; though that was because she had managed to upset a bottle of ink on his favourite shirt, "There is no 'but' in this conversation. We are very upset, pen tithen, that you would do something like this."

"But I..."

"Bronwe," both brothers chorused warningly.

Glorfindel raised and eyebrow and hid a smile, melting back into the doorway as he watched the interesting little tableau. Elrond bumped into his back and found a hand clamped over his mouth to stifle his 'oof'. Glaring at his seneschal, he only quietened down when Glorfindel silently pointed over his shoulder to the three solemn figures still arguing in the room.

"But I was only looking for that book," she protested, "You know, the one with the pictures."

Glorfindel raised an incredulous eyebrow. Surely Elladan and Elrohir were not quite careless enough to leave that particular book outside?

"Which book?" Elladan asked, his heart clearly speeding up in apprehension.

"The one with the elves," she said plaintively, "I wanted to see the picture with the two elves who were fighting the dragon."

If anything, there were three sighs of relief. Elrond made a mental note to talk to Glorfindel or his sons about this book, a very small idea of what it was seeping into his brain. Elladan and Elrohir were just happy that she meant an old history book of theirs and not the book they usually kept hidden in their drawers.

"You should have asked and we would have given it to you," Elladan informed her, "Never ever go into our room again unless we say yes. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Elladan," she said meekly. Standing up, she scuffed the toe of her shoe against the floor as she tried to think of how to say what she wanted to say- "You won't tell Ada, will you?"

Elrond didn't know whether to be upset or amused. Glorfindel just grinned.

Elrohir looked at his brother and grinned too, but more because they remembered saying that themselves to whoever had caught them making mischief. "No," he promised, "But if he asks us, then we won't deny it." He bent down to her with a serious face. "Ada has ways of finding out things," he whispered, "Things that no one else knows anything about."

Elladan controlled his need to laugh but joined in with the game. "Aye, pen tithen. He can see everything in Imladris, you know. He is very powerful!"

"A- Ada is not..."

"You don't believe us?" Elrohir broke in, "I saw him doing magic one night, you know. He waved his hands over the river and the fish began to sing! Just imagine that! At night, when everyone is asleep and no one knows what he does, he goes out to the forest and..."

"Ahem!"

Both twins jumped like a shot and turned guilty faces to their father. Glorfindel stayed in the doorway to indolently watch the scene. One look at Bronwe, however, made sure that the whole trick was not quite as humorous as the twins had intended. The elfling was terrified, not sure whether to run to her father to deny everything or to cling to her brothers to ask for protection.

Elrond was thinking the same thing, wondering if his ears could stand being screamed at for the best part of an hour. He sighed with relief when Glorfindel quietly took his daughter away and left him to glare his headstrong sons into submission.

"Magic, is it?" he asked pleasantly, arms folded as he deepened his glare.

Elladan and Elrohir squirmed uncomfortably. "We were just joking, Ada. We were going to tell her that," Elrohir protested.

"You told an innocent little elfling that her father was some kind of wizard who did magic at night," Elrond reflected, a finger tapping at his chin, "And what would you have said had I not interrupted?"

"We would have turned it into a joke," Elladan said quickly.

"A joke? She was scared, Elladan! How could you do something like that to your sister?"

"But we didn't..."

"No! Not another word! I want you both to go talk to her right now; tell her that you were joking, beg her pardon and then play with her until this mess is gone from her mind."

"But, Ada, we were going to..."

"No."

The twins hung their heads and growled in half-hearted mutiny beneath their breaths. With their ear-tips burning with embarrassment, they straggled their way to the door, obviously not looking forward to having their afternoon plans spoiled. After all, they had only just returned and there were friends to meet and greet!

Elrond watched them go with a smile on his lips. "Oh, and one more thing. When you are done with that, please return to my office with that- that book you feared Bronwe had seen? I would like a look at it myself."

The two shared a horrified look and then took off down the corridor before their father got any more mad ideas into his head.


	4. 4

Author's Note: A little more pensive than funny, but let's see how it goes. If Navaer Lalaith (hope that's right) reads this- sorry if you think I was laughing at you. Seriously I wasn't! And anyone know where Reona is?

* * *

"Elladan, where is your father?" Erestor called, poking his head in at the storage room used for healing supplies. 

The oldest twin looked up, his mind clearly still adjusting to the sudden interruption. "Ada? I do not know. He went to the barracks I think. Something about a ridiculous new rite of initiation that almost injured one of the new patrol guards."

Brown eyes narrowed somewhat. "I see. Elrond should know better than to interfere with something like that. The soldiers will not appreciate his lofty opinions."

"Yes, well, the injured young elf is currently unconscious with a head wound, so I suppose he is willing to risk that," Elladan remarked, grinning as Erestor sighed and shook his head, "But you did not come to talk about soldiers. What is it? Has something happened?"

Erestor straightened and looked panicked. "Yes! The party from Mirkwood are on their way!"

"Mirkwood? But I thought..."

"So did I," Erestor protested, hands outflung in a gesture of despair, "And none of the bed chambers are prepared!"

Elladan looked incredulous and then burst out laughing. Pausing only long enough to put away the bottles he had been examining, the younger elf placed a soothing hand on his former tutor's shoulder. "Erestor, when your lover arrives, do you really intend to put him in an enormously luxurious bed chamber that he will not use for even one night of his stay here? And you know that Legolas uses the room next to Ada. Though the Valar know why; they never open that stupid door. As for the rest, they will not mind using the rooms in the west of the house, where the furnishings are simple but the views are beautiful."

Erestor blinked. "I see you mean to take over my job," the steward growled, annoyed at being caught in such a useless panic, "Perhaps you should go look for your father while you are at it. I shall go see to the rooms in the western guest wing."

Elladan watched him go with a smile on his face. It was truly amusing to see the normally composed, reserved elf become quite so flustered every time Thranduil was expected. He had always thought Erestor to be a rather cold creature, though capable of love in an undemonstrable way; it seemed he had been very, very wrong! And he was very glad to know that!

"Elladan, have you finished? Good! Now, we can..."

Elladan calmly put a hand over his father's mouth and shushed him. "Ada, the party from Mirkwood is expected to arrive any minute. I think you should go prepare to greet them."

Elrond's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "Now?" came the muffled question.

"Yes, now!"

Elrond spat a mouthful of Elladan's palm out of his mouth and nodded quickly. Muttering quickly to himself about wood elves who simply could not decide if they were coming or going, he stalked away to his chambers, hoping to wriggle his way into something a little less faded and old before his guests arrived.

Of course, Legolas would not have cared in the least if Elrond had come to meet them wearing a sack and covered in mud. He was simply too relaxed already by leaving behind his cares at the well-guarded borders of Imladris.

Aragorn rode beside him, a small smile flicking the corners of his lips at the thought of seeing his Arwen once more. Everything in Imladris reminded him of her, and if it did not, it reminded him of his foster father and therefore indirectly of her. From the trees to the snow to the small woodland creatures that strayed out of their path... Arwen's name chorused around him until he thought he would sigh like a callow youth in love.

Thranduil merely looked humorous. Not that he wasn't eagerly anticipating the reunion with his own lover, but his son and his son's friend were simply too good to be true. In a world jaded by too much war and death, it was nice to see Legolas and Aragorn almost bouncing for joy.

And there, rising from the midst of serenity, was the Last Homely House. Thranduil was not quite sure what had gifted such a magnificent structure that most annoying of names, but somehow it seemed to fit. Very few who ever came to that large door were barred or turned away empty-handed. It was the cynical side of him that thought that the folk of Imladris were by far too trusting to strive for such an impractical goal.

And then his eyes lit on the elf who seemed to embody everything that Imladris stood for- Erestor!

"Mae govannen, my Lord Elrond," he greeted absently, bowing to his host with polite sweetness.

Elrond almost waved a hand at him and told him not to bother, but he bowed as well, uttered a few quick words of greetings and then turned his back considerately to allow Erestor and Thranduil to exchange at least a glance in some privacy. As for the half-elf, his gaze was split between two... one of whose arm was in a sling.

"Legolas?" he folded his arms and waited for an explanation.

Aragorn quickly put his hands up in surrender. "I had nothing to do with it, Lord Elrond," he warned, "Tis all Legolas' fault."

Grey eyes looked to the man and then foster father and foster son embraced. "Mae govannen, ion nin," Elrond murmured affectionately, "And do not worry; I do not mean to lecture you this time."

"Thank the Valar," Aragorn sighed, rolling his eyes in mock relief.

Legolas snorted and came forward, bowing simply in respect. "My Lord," he muttered, blushing just slightly as he always did.

It was always like this with the two of them. They never really knew how to react and it would take an entire day for them to stop circling each other like wary lions, unsure whether to fight or mate. Usually, they ended up respecting the other's safe distance and would call good naturedly from their opposite ends of the room, ignoring whatever it was between them that everyone already knew of.

"Welcome, Legolas Thranduilion," Elrond smiled, "I believe your daughter is out at the moment, swimming with some friends of hers."

"Swimming? Is there someone with her, Elrond? Surely you did not send them alone?"

Elrond raised a slender hand to halt the flow of words. "There are two reliable elf-maidens accompanying them and Bronwe is expected back in a few hours. Rest easy, mellon nin, she will come back in one piece."

Legolas sighed and visibly slumped, gratefully turning his stallion over to one of his guards to take away. Usually he would look after his Ithildin himself; but now... well, there were other important things to do.

Silently, as the past eight years dictated, Elrond and Legolas went to the Elf Lord's study to talk over the time apart and the welfare of their daughter. Any who accompanied them were welcome to join, but Aragorn wisely slipped elsewhere, seeking Glorfindel to ask after news from Arwen. Erestor and Thranduil had long since disappeared into the garden.

"Well, Legolas? And what has befallen you this time?" Elrond began, sitting down and waving to the wounded arm.

"A warg," Legolas admitted, "It died."

"Good."

The two tried to think of something else to say.

"Does Imladris suffer from wargs? I mean, overmuch?"

"I think we have our fair share," Elrond considered, "But not, perhaps, as many as Mirkwood."

"Oh."

Then they sat there some more. Or would have, if a small but very determined tempest had not decided to slam through the door and attack Legolas.

"Ada!"

Legolas caught his daughter with his good arm, fell off his chair and began to laugh. "Bronwe," he replied in kind, hugging her tight and grinning fondly, "Ai, pen tithen! You are growing!"

"I grew out of my clothes," the elfling agreed proudly, "And Ada had to make me new clothes. And then I tore them!"

"Well, that is not very nice. But how are you, my Bronwe? Did you enjoy your swim?"

That was all the opening that Bronwe needed to begin to chatter, still sitting in her father's lap and smiling as if it were the first day of summer after a long, hard winter. Elrond left them quietly to their own devises, not wanting to intrude on the short time that they had together.

Bronwe looked up as the door closed behind him, a small frown wrinkling her nose. "Why did Ada leave?" she questioned plaintively, "Is he angry?"

Legolas sat up properly and thought about that. "No," he replied hastily, stroking the thick dark hair, "He isn't angry. He... has work to do."

Blue eyes blinked, long black lashes fluttering up and down. Clearly she didn't believe him. He opened his mouth to continue defending the unaware Elf Lord when a question forestalled him- "Why do you and Ada fight?"

Legolas stared, his jaw dropped at the very question. He had no idea where his daughter had ever picked up such an idea! Indeed, he and Elrond got on very well once the initial awkwardness passed from their meetings. The Elf Lord never interfered with him and let him do as he thought fit; in return Legolas accepted the boundaries of their relationship. Argue? Never!

"I have never argued with your Ada, Bronwe. Why do you think this?"

She fidgeted a little with his fingers, a habit he was startled to realize came from him, and shrugged in typical childhood evasiveness. "Gaerwen said that her parents lived together. And I heard," she went pink, "someone say that you and Ada didn't want me."

Legolas tightened his lips over the urge to call whoever had said that an uncouth ignoramus and wondered whether he should not give this to Elrond to handle. After all, the half-elf had had three children before this and he would know how to handle this. But the blue eyes were large and sad, slightly scared of what she might hear.

"We did not plan to have you," Legolas agreed slowly, "And we were very surprised when we found out. But we love you very much and so we were happy. As for not living together- well, I am the Prince of Mirkwood, pen tithen; I must protect my people."

"I know," she said hurriedly, "And Gaerwen said so too. Will you stay?"

"For your begetting day?" Legolas queried, "Well, naturally! That is why I came. I have a present for you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, jewelled hair clip that he had been intending to give her the morning of her special day. But he suspected that his Bronwe needed it now, and not in two weeks. "This was my mother's. And when I was little, my Ada gave it to me. And now it is yours."

"Mine?" A finger reached out to trace the delicately carved flowers. "Really?"

"Yours." Deft fingers fastened it in her hair and then nodded. "I think it looks nice."

Bronwe spun for a while, looking for a place to see for herself. It wasn't that she didn't trust her Ada, but sometimes a girl just needed to see these things to believe them. "Glorfindel! I'll ask Glorfindel how it looks! Thank you, Ada."

Before another word was said, a loud kiss was planted on Legolas' cheek and then she took off, messy dark hair flying behind her as she pattered down the corridor. Elrohir came in some time later to find his friend lost in thought, still sitting on the floor with his arm in a sling and his brow uncharacteristically furrowed.

"Legolas? Is everything all right?"

Legolas looked up quickly and nodded to Elrohir. "I am fine; just tired, mellon nin."

"Are you sure? Because I was going to invite you to look at the new foals but if you desire to rest first, I am sure that would be fine." The Peredhil grinned mischievously as Legolas sprang gracefully to his feet and protested, demanding to be shown the foals instantly and threatening all kinds of dire violence if he was denied. "I knew you could not resist a good ride," Elrohir teased.


	5. 5

The feast had been over for many hours now, and most of the elves had retired to the Hall of Fire to celebrate the day in song and music. Well, bodily, at any rate. Bronwe herself was fast asleep, curled up in Legolas' lap with her blue eyes unfocused.

Every so often, one of the family would come by and check on her, mindless of the fact that Legolas was currently reflecting on the shade of her hair or the curve of her eyelash. As Elrond had suspected, the blond had turned into a rather obsessive father.

Thranduil was no better. But as Erestor strenuously objected to being forgotten in lieu of an elfling of eight, the Mirkwood King had curbed himself and set about placating his lover from the bad mood of the night before:

"I am telling you, melme..."

"You are trying very hard, and you are not succeeding," Erestor hissed, "Now stop talking and listen!"

Thranduil raised an eyebrow and almost smirked, but didn't. It never failed to amuse him that the cool, composed Steward had quite a sulky, tempestuous nature. It made him feel rather smug all things considered.

At Elrond's side, another drama was being enacted. One that was giving the Lord of Imladris a headache:

"Aragorn, it is a beautiful night. Would you like to take a walk with me?"

Right on cue, the human blushed and then looked fearfully to the maiden's father as if he expected him to swing a sword at him. "But- but Glorfindel has promised to play for us tonight. It would be a shame to miss him for he is really so..."

"Aragorn, Glorfindel has finished playing five songs ago!"

Elrond sighed and shook his head, a hand covering his eyes at that particular tone in his daughter's voice. It meant she was annoyed and frustrated and very likely to start doing serious damage to someone. As Aragorn was in her way and Glorfindel had taught Arwen to throw very sharp objects with perfect accuracy, Elrond hoped that Aragorn would stop being quite so nervy and just take her away.

The man didn't. And so Elrond's headache got worse- as did Arwen's temper- and Aragorn finally retired for the night with his ears ringing and the morbid belief that Arwen was going to replace him with Orophin of Lothlorien. Elrond watched him go with sad eyes, only to be joined by Legolas still cradling their tired little elfling.

"What is the matter?" Legolas demanded, sitting down in Arwen's recently vacated chair, "You look sorrowful."

"It is Aragorn," Elrond chuckled, "He did not take Arwen out to see the waterfalls by moonlight when she asked."

"Ah, I see. And did you happen to glare at him?"

"Me?" A slender healer's hand waved expressively in the air. "Would I ever do something so beneath my dignity as glare?"

"Perhaps I should withhold judgement," Legolas grinned.

Both turned to watch as a particularly beautiful voice lifted in song, telling the tale of two lovers who were sundered by a misunderstanding. Erestor simply sat still and turned white, and then red, and then white again as all eyes turned to stare at him in amusement.

"King Thranduil has a wonderful voice," Elrond remarked.

"Yes. Though you must admit he has a lot at stake," his companion giggled, "Did you know why Erestor was in a foul mood this morning?"

"I thought it due to the stress of tonight's celebrations."

"Nay! Not in the least! It seems that Ada made an unfortunate remark at an, ah, inopportune moment and Erestor was not best pleased. He slept in the library last night and his stiff neck has done nothing to improve his temper."

The two sniggered quietly under their breathes until Bronwe stirred, blinking hazy blue eyes as she looked around her in innocent bewilderment.

Elrond reached across and caressed the tip of one ear, whispering soothing sounds in the other until his daughter went back to sleep. Which was not quite the best thing he could have done, for the back of his hand was brushing gently against his former lover's chest and Legolas' blue eyes were fixed a little too heatedly on his face, the look reminding him very much of a hobbit who has seen breakfast after being starved for three days.

"Legolas, I think I will take Bronwe to bed," the Elf Lord said hurriedly.

"Sit still, melethron," the archer sighed, getting to his feet with the dark-haired little bundle still clutched in his arms, "You cannot leave just yet. I will put her to bed and then I think we need to talk."

Talk? Why did that make the half-elf feel very faint? Oh, of course! Because their second night all those years ago had begun with those fateful words- "My Lord, I think we need to talk". After which, there developed the incident with Legolas' tongue and his fingers....

Glorfindel looked up as his lord gave a long shiver while staring away into absolute nothingness. It was a most amusing sight. Indeed, quite a few of the Imladris elves had noticed, and quite a few were placing bets on whether the two most sensationalized couple would finally surrender to each other, or whether both would once more be frustratingly inhibited. So far, all the odds were favoured for a wild coupling in the garden but Glorfindel knew enough to snort and place his money on frustration and separate beds; both Elrond and Legolas were pig-headed that way.

Naturally enough, by the time Elrond finally gave up and excused himself, everyone was following his line of thinking. For the dark-haired Elf Lord had waited too long for it to be an arranged assignation and Legolas had not returned.

Which was something that Elrond did not quite understand either- why had Legolas not returned?

Striding quietly down the hallway of the family's rooms, he hoped that nothing had gone wrong with the still-healing wound the blond bore. But it had seemed fine in the morning, and Legolas' natural healing abilities were quite used to acting quickly and efficiently by now. Perhaps he had been mistaken?

He opened the door to his rooms and decided that he had indeed been mistaken. After all, Thranduil had been hitting a particularly high note at the time and Legolas' voice tended to be very soft in the midst of others.

He opened the door to his bed chamber and found that he had been right.

"Legolas?" He found to his immense frustration that he squeaked.

Apparently Legolas had heard it too for the blond smirked and shook his head. "Sit down, my Lord. I do not plan to seduce you... at least just yet."

Elrond tossed his companion a dirty look and entered, shutting the door behind him with a decided bang. Folding his arms across his chest, he waited for the conversation to begin. "Well?"

"I am not planning to assassinate you, Elrond, and I assure you I have bathed! Would you at least sit down? Thank you. I wanted to see how you were. No, do not glare; it is a perfectly legitimate question." Legolas glowed with supreme innocent confidence in himself and concern for his fellow elf. "Glorfindel has hinted his concerns to me too."

"Glorfindel is about to find himself exiled," Elrond growled, flouncing into a chair and then staring at the dresser as if expecting it to burst into flames.

"Elrond, you are behaving very badly," Legolas warned. Since that got him nothing more than a muttered oath, he sighed and gave up. Leaning forward on the bed he clasped his hands between his knees, letting all the care and worry flood his face and voice. "Melme, tell me what bothers you."

Elrond's head shot up, grey eyes intent and watchful. Few times would his former lover ever call him that, and fewer times yet would he allow himself to believe the endearment was real. He sighed too then, putting the masks away for another time.

"There is trouble brewing," he said at last, "Many have felt it. Evil is stirring once more in Mordor and I am worried. I recently received word from Mithrandir that he believes the One Ring has been found. Glorfindel was naturally of the opinion that we should ride out to seek it, and destroy it now before Sauron is ready, but I have cautioned him to wait. We are still divided on the matter."

"Oh," for some reason Legolas was not quite as panic-stricken as Elrond had expected, "I see. And who else have you spoken to of this?"

"No one," Elrond protested, not quite sure what his Prince was trying to say, "Do you imagine I would make a public announcement of this? Everyone would go into fright and life would come to a sudden halt!"

A broad but well-shaped hand waved 'everyone' away with an impatient sneer. "I do not care about that," Legolas huffed, "What I do care about is that you have known this for quite some time now and you have carried this weight all alone the whole time!"

Elrond blinked, clearly taken-aback by that. He had expected declarations of immediate action, or gasps of shock and horror and a breathless demand for more information; he had not expected to become the focus of the conversation. "I think you are missing the point," he said gently.

"No, I do believe that you are. Elrond, you cannot go your whole life with only Glorfindel to confide things to. For one because you will likely send poor Glorfindel mad, and for another because you will send yourself mad. No, do not look at me as if I were over-reacting. Elladan and Elrohir have given up trying to talk to you and Arwen asked me specifically to intervene. I imagine even Erestor might have said something if he were not so taken up with my Ada. But what is worse, Elrond, Bronwe is worried too."

Elrond gasped, a hand clapped to his mouth to stifle the sound. "She asked?"

"She wonders," Legolas corrected, "but she does not really understand."

Blue eyes gazed compassionately at the Elf Lord sitting across from them. The half-elf was clearly upset by his lack of control, supporting his head in his hands with his elbows on his knees. A quick motion of a slender hand and the mithril Circlet of Office went rolling into a corner. The ribbons quickly followed as the braids were undone and the butterfly hairclip might have followed if Legolas had not caught his wrist and pulled it to his lips.

Elrond looked down, perfectly still as he hovered between pushing the archer away and letting the caress continue. Eventually that soft mouth kissed its way over his fingers and he relaxed, letting Legolas take the clip from him.

"I am sorry," he whispered, "I should have been better prepared."

"It is not your fault. She is a bright child and she knows you too well. You know she senses these things; she always has."

The "I know" was so soft as to be non-existent. "Legolas. Legolas, stop. You must stop now."

"Why?" Those soft lips kept travelling, a warm tongue flicking out to catch the hard pad of the forefinger, curling greedily around the digit before letting go.

Elrond gulped and almost closed his eyes. But somehow that would have meant surrender so he kept them open, forced himself to watch so that he could find the strength to stop this. "Legolas, you must stop," he insisted.

Legolas said nothing, merely continuing in direct disregard to the order issued to him.

Elrond really didn't want to pull away. He spent the next two minutes telling himself that. But it didn't work. And when Legolas actually swallowed his middle finger and sucked... "Will you stop!"

The finger exited the succulent mouth with a disreputable pop and blue eyes blinked in the sudden in-rush of reality, the slender blond caught off guard by such a vehement denial. The Mirkwood Prince looked up, enquiring and hurt and oh, so very flushed and inviting.

"Legolas, you should leave now," Elrond prompted desperately, "In fact, you must be very tired. I advise you to get some sleep. Count me... I mean sheep! I- I will see you in the morning, when there are others."

Legolas found himself being grasped by the elbow and steered towards the door. He could practically smell the desire buzzing between them and could not understand what it was that made Elrond resist so hard. Though perhaps 'hard' was the wrong word to use in the context. It was more the lack of hardness, as far as Legolas was concerned; that and the lack of physical contact for eight years now was making him crazy!

"Good night," the Elf Lord finally called, shutting the connecting door behind him as he was shoved suddenly into his own room.

Legolas shook his head and came back to his senses just as the sounds of something heavy was dragged around on the other side. He gave up. Fighting that heavy oak table was not his idea of a fun way to spend the night. If Elrond didn't want this, then he didn't either. So thinking, the sulky Prince went to bed and made a vow to stay there.


	6. 6

Author's Note: Yes, yes, I know I will get people telling me that I'm writing crap and should have stopped a long time ago. But this is the story- so deal with it, people! Oh, and we finally find out what Bronwe's destiny is.

* * *

"Ada, wake up." 

Elrond woke from one of the most broken sleeps he had had for a long time to see a pair of solemn blue eyes peering at him. A quick blink and then he sat up, stretching slightly to throw off the last of the clinging unconsciousness in order to concentrate on the little elfling currently sitting beside him. He could only give thanks that Legolas had not succeeded in his earlier task; else this would have been an extremely tricky situation.

"Bronwe, what is wrong?" he asked, putting his arm around her shoulders and holding her close, "Did you have a bad dream?"

"No," she answered carefully, "But I will."

"Pardon?" It was far too dark, the Elf Lord decided, and he couldn't really tell why the tone of her soft voice was sending chills down his back.

"I woke up," she informed him, barely whispering in the still room.

Elrond stroked the soft, dark hair and thought about that. Something was worrying about this; it nagged at his mind with a vague warning. "Was there a reason or did it just seem a good idea at the time?" he finally questioned dryly.

This time there was silence.

He looked down to see Bronwe curled against him, dark hair tumbled and tossed from her nightly traipse through the house to find him.

Elrond smiled and shook his head, carefully pushing the dark hair back behind a pointed little ear. "So soon asleep, iel nin?" he murmured, "Then sleep, pen-neth, sleep."

Bronwe gave no sign of having heard her father's voice. Her eyes were open but Elrond could not see them. Holding his little girl close, the Lord of Imladris stared out the nearest window to watch the stars traverse the night sky as all around him slept in peace and honest exhaustion.

But there was something wrong. Vilya was sending a deep throb up his arm, power and warning pulsing over his nerve endings with alarming frequency. Startled, he opened his mind to the valley, sweeping through hidden corners and glades; but nothing felt out of place. He took inner stock and felt his heart beat with a slightly accelerated but normal pace. It was not his health at risk, but then...

A thought occurred, so small that it froze him in place and chilled him to the bone. He gasped as realization finally spurred him to action.

"Bronwe! Browne, look to me."

The terrified half-elf hauled his little daughter into his lap, shaking her slightly to rouse her. But her face remained reposed and expressionless, cold to the touch. And then he saw them- a sight that took his throat in a tight fist and squeezed until he fought for breath- the bright blue eyes that he loved so much were now bright silver, glowing in the darkness with an other worldly glow.

"Ada?" The word was so small; the breath drawing it out to a tiny mewl.

He shook her again, desperate to break her out of her trance, but she fought! Bronwe tore her arms from his grasp and shook her dark head; something seemed to bother her for her eyes began to glance around and she wrinkled her little nose in confusion.

"Bronwe?"

There was no answer.

Praying to the Valar with every fibre of his being, Elrond pulled his daughter gently to his chest and tilted her head to lay a perfect ear over his heart. And he rocked them both soothingly and waited.

It was long moments in time before he felt movement. Not daring to hope without confirmation, Elrond held on. He knew now what that trance was. The space of a few minutes' thought told him he had only passed on to Bronwe what he himself had- an ability to envision things. Elros had once told him that his eyes glowed slightly silver when he had a waking vision.

"Ada?"

"Bronwe? Pen- dithen, what happened?" He let her sit up and crooked his knees so that she could lean back against them to look up at him. He almost let out an audible sigh of relief as blue eyes blinked up at him.

"I saw you," Bronwe said simply, "And Ada. Both of you I saw."

Legolas and himself? Elrond was momentarily distracted from his daughter's possible needs by that thought. Or at least, he was until the next statement was made-

"Why do big elves kiss with their tongues?"

The Elf Lord sat bolt upright and stared. Bronwe simply looked curious. "Why do you kiss with your tongue, Ada?"

"I... do not know what you mean," he settled on.

"You were kissing Ada and then you told him to open his mouth," she reminisced, "Then you put your tongue in his mouth. It looked fun."

"I forbid you to try," Elrond said instantly. He knew the way his daughter's mind worked! "What else did you see?"

"Ada and you were in bed," she sighed, wrinkling her nose in thought, "This bed. Yes. And he said something that scared you. Why were you scared, Ada?"

"I am not sure yet, pen-neth. But tell me more."

"I want to sleep," she whined, knuckling her eyes piteously and yawning.

He stroked her cheek reassuringly, keeping his grimness to himself. Oh yes, he knew how tiring such a thing could be; he was only thankful that his own visions were rare and happened now mostly while he slept. "A little more," he promised, "Then you shall sleep. Come, iel nin; be brave for me."

Like the true daughter of an elven warrior, she nodded determinedly and blinked the sleep from her eyes. "You kissed Ada," she began again, "Many times. You liked that; I felt it. But when Ada asked for something, you became scared. But you said yes. Then you both took off your clothes."

Elrond gulped. This did not sound good. "How well could you see, Bronwe?"

"Not very well," she admitted innocently, "It was night and there was a storm. I do not like storms." She raised an eyebrow as her father visibly relaxed. "Then Ada lay on top of you and started kissing you again. He kissed you there..."

Elrond stared down to see the little finger point to the pulse hammering at the base of his throat.

"And there..."

Eyes followed the finger to the spot just above his left nipple.

"And there..."

Then the right one.

"And then there..."

The middle of his chest.

"And then he kissed all the way down to..."

"I understand," Elrond interrupted, catching her wrist before the finger went to places that were entirely inappropriate for even the most innocent of touches.

"Why did Ada hurt you?" Bronwe asked, breaking the silence with the saddest, most vulnerable voice he had ever heard from her. "After you finished your game, Ada fell asleep. He was smiling, but you cried. Why did you cry? Did he hurt you?"

Cry? In the future? Elrond had a nasty suspicion that he knew what the tired, drained, upset little elfling had seen. And it was certainly not the future.

"Im-mel-lle," she whispered, eyes beginning to flutter in sleep like Aragorn's used to, "You said that. Ada never heard you."

"Pen-neth, I am so sorry," Elrond sighed, "So very sorry that you have this burden. I wish I could help you but there is nothing... your burden..."

She was struggling to stay wakeful now, frightened by his words and the sorrow in his eyes. "Ada, I do not understand," she whimpered, "Are you angry? Is it something bad?"

"No," her Ada soothed, quick to catch his unguarded tongue before it caused her any more pain, "I am not angry. Everything will be fine, iel nin. Sleep, now. All is well."

"Promise?"

"I swear it."

Bronwe. Faith. There was so much faith in her! And the half-elf had a strong suspicion that he had been mistaken about her role in all of this. Her time was not come yet. In a way, he could breathe thankfully, safe in the knowledge that she had no need to be placed in danger at such a young age. There would be time enough for her to grow and if all went well, the threat of Sauron would be eliminated before that day came.

He stared out of the window once more, noticing the red haze of coming dawn into the inky darkness of night. Moving softly so as not to wake anyone else, he picked Bronwe up and carried her back to her rooms, pausing only to dress respectably before that.

He gave a grim smile at the sight that met him in the next corridor. "Follow me," he whispered softly, a finger at his lips, "She is asleep and I will explain later."

Legolas nodded, the scare of finding his daughter missing from her room momentarily assuaged by the sight of her safe and sound. But why did Elrond look so resigned and angry? Not to mention a little awkward! He followed on silent feet and waited at the door as his former lover put their child to bed and covered her securely.

Leaving, he dared not say a word until he found himself ushered into the study and the door shut. A curiously wild look of humour lit the grey eyes, a look he had not ever seen before.

"Tell me, Prince of Mirkwood," Elrond asked casually, "How do you explain to an elfling the mechanics of sex?"


	7. 7

Author's Note: So unbelievably sorry for not posting sooner. But I was struck down with a really huge attack of writer's block. That, and another fic grabbed my attention along with a lot of other work. But it's all good now. Hopefully, should have the next chapter up soon.

------------------------------------------

"What?" Legolas almost cricked his neck doing a double take. The dark-haired Elf Lord seemed far too calm considering the question and Legolas wondered fleetingly if this was a joke, a weak means of revenge for his breaking of the mutual boundaries between them.

"I asked..."

"I know what you asked," Legolas interrupted quickly, a hand up to stop the question being repeated, "What I would like to know is why you ask. What does this have to do with Bronwe creeping out of bed in the middle of the night?" A thought struck him. "Has someone offered her harm?"

Elrond looked amused. "Would I be standing here if someone had? Some wine?"

"No," Legolas muttered absently. Without thinking he moved to the desk and perched on the edge, far too close to Elrond for what would have normally have been comfortable. But there was something very reckless in the half-elf of this dawn; a kind of self-destructive humour that made one do ridiculous things that would be regretted when the time had passed.

Elrond shrugged, downed his glass and then poured another. "Your daughter," he remarked, "Has the ability to see the past. And what is more, she has seen ours."

Legolas really did get a crick in his neck this time as his head snapped up. He reached up a hand to ease the shrieking muscle and stared at the matter-of-fact expression that Elrond was directing at him. He tried to see into those normally honest grey eyes, to find something that would tell him what Elrond was trying to get at. But there was nothing there but a vague anger at everything and nothing.

The Elf Lord sighed and put down his glass. "Stay still," he ordered, batting Legolas' hand away and doing it himself, healer's fingers quickly unravelling the knot in his neck with a few efficient strokes.

"Bronwe came to me this night," he began, "But she seemed to fall asleep again and so I simply held her, thinking she had woken from a peculiar dream. But then Vilya warned me of some kind of power. The valley was safe, as was the house, and I was in good health. Bronwe was the only other possible source. When I checked, she was having a vision. I waited until she woke, and then tried to draw as much information from her as I could. But she was tired and I let her sleep."

"A- a vision?" Now Legolas was certain that he was lost. This was uncharted territory for him. What did he know about foresight or visions or things of that nature? He was a warrior! Not a visionary!

"I believe she has... well, hindsight," Elrond explained, a small smile playing about his lips at the thought, "it has never been heard of to my knowledge, but I may be mistaken."

"Hindsight?"

Elrond's fingers suddenly stilled on his neck and then drew away self-consciously. The Elf Lord retreated further away and took his glass of wine with him. "She saw us," he answered plainly, "On the night of her conception."

Legolas blinked. "She saw us? Together?"

"Together," Elrond agreed, "In bed. Making love. Well, making her, rather."

The wood-elf blushed, coughing discreetly behind his hand in order to hide his face. He was not normally shy about his attractions or his sexual activities, but there was something very derisive in the deep voice speaking to him. And it made him feel very self-conscious and not a little bitter.

Elrond seemed to notice, for he instantly softened. "But it is not so very bad," he said apologetically, "She did not see very much. Though I will say she saw more than was strictly good for her."

Legolas shuddered at the thought and perched himself on the edge of the desk again, absently dismissing the remembrance that it was unseemly for him to do so. "So what now?" he asked, pushing his hair off his face, "What are we to do?"

Elrond shrugged. "Well, it seems that the little talk about the working of nature will have to be had a little earlier than anticipated. If this happens again, she should know what is going on." He looked up and saw a very curious sight- the famed archer and Prince of Mirkwood, proclaimed as a brave and courageous warrior, was looking pale and rather dismayed. "Is something wrong?"

"Must- must we really have that talk?"

"Well, yes. It is only fair to Bronwe. Oh, don't look so scared! It won't be worse than the one your father had with you, surely."

"Uh..."

"Your father did speak with you, did he not?"

Legolas shook his blond head vigorously.

"He didn't? But... that sounds vaguely disturbing. How did you find out? Well, no, I suppose the urges are fairly strong when one gets down to it," the Elf Lord conceded, thinking about it, "But still- did someone else instruct you?"

"No," Legolas snapped shortly, drawing the tattered remains of his dignity around himself with a flick of his slender wrist, "There was never any need. And I am sure that you can explain things to Bronwe without me."

Elrond stood up and came to him, touching his cheek with a small smile. Legolas was alarmed to see the slight over-brightness in his former lover's eyes. He knew that teasing look. "I am afraid, my Prince, that you presence is required urgently. You were as much to blame for Bronwe's vision as I was."

"Blame? I did not intend to sire a child that could see her own conception!"

"Nevertheless, you have. Therefore, you must accept responsibility. No child of mine is going to go through her life experimenting simply to find out what the compulsions are that she feels." He smiled wider. "And you might benefit from the talk too, seeing as how your own education was stilted."

The blond growled, fingers twitching to do something drastic even when he didn't in the least mean to do it. "I," he warned shortly, "knew enough to aid me in ensuring that such an accident did not occur. It seems you forgot!"

The hand dropped.

Legolas could have bitten out his tongue for that ill-timed remark. "Melme, I did not..."

"No, you are right. I should have been more careful. I should not have assumed that the curse would have lifted on its own." Elrond sat down heavily in his chair, twitching the heavy tunic closer around him, his hands disposed of neatly in his lap. He seemed to think for a moment, lost in some disturbing memory that made him frown somewhat. "But what good can such a gift be to her? Why need she look to the past?"

Legolas shrugged. Mentally, he was kicking himself. The effort involved took up a lot of concentration, even for an elf. "Sometimes," he mused, "The future can be changed by the past."

Elrond looked up sharply. "Repeat that," he snapped, an idea forming in his head. He had heard those words before, uttered by Gil-Galad on some petty and vague point one night in the distant days of Lindon.

The blond was startled, but willingly repeated the words- "Sometimes the future can be changed by the past. It is something my father would say to me."

"The past... the past is gone. Can it change much? No. But... it can teach! It can instruct!" Elrond dropped his head in his hands and rubbed at his eyes. "Ai, Elbereth! This is not my night. I believe I may know the answer to the problems of our world. Or at least, to Sauron."

"Bronwe?" An icy hand gripped Legolas' heart. Gift be forsaken, he was not sacrificing his daughter for the good of the world. She was just a child! It was impossible!

"Bronwe? No. Not Bronwe. She has no place in this fight. She will find her own path in her own time. And I feel sure that it will rest in Middle Earth. But the Ring is returned and the threat of Sauron is imminent. We almost lost before amidst much blood and death. It was not the way."

Legolas watched in some trepidation as Elrond jumped up and began pulling books out of the shelves at random. The deft hands let none of them drop or damage, but nevertheless, there was a nervy haste to the actions that made him fear a little. The Elf Lord was tired. Legolas had hoped to make him rest somewhat. Or at least relax!

Those hands were flipping hurriedly through a book twice the length of Legolas' hands. The forefinger flicked up the edge of the page and then the rest joined in to turn it. The grey eyes were fixed in intense concentration on the words, the soft mouth gently murmuring phrases and half-thoughts. And those hands...

Legolas got carefully off the table, pulled the book away and put it neatly on top of the pile. "Stop," he said firmly, grasping those protesting hands and holding tight, "Leave it for now. Take some rest and tell Glorfindel first."

"There is no time..."

"Ah, but there are more pressing things," the blond purred, moving closer. Blue eyes began to darken in anticipation, the slim, reed-like body pressing closer. "There is the matter of that little talk on the arts of adult love."

Elrond pushed with half-hearted decline at the hard plane of chest pressing against his. "That was for Bronwe," he growled.

Legolas grinned an evil little grin. "Then I suggest we practise what we are to tell her," he smirked, "Else she will be confused. Besides, you promised to instruct me as well."

"It is not my fault if..."

"Erestor will kill me if I ask for this lesson from my father. It is therefore your duty."

"My duty? Now there is a..."

"Elrond?" a third voice joined in. No reply came.

Glorfindel stuck his head around the lip of the door, enquiring and confused at the soft sounds until he saw the locked embrace of the other two. Chuckling quietly to himself, he made a mental note to keep Bronwe occupied for a while longer. At least for the morning!

The little elfling trotted solemnly at his side before tugging on his hand. The tall elf looked down to her with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

Blue eyes blinked up at him- "Why do big elves kiss with their tongues?"


	8. 8

Author's Note: Light and fluffy, but then I'm just so happy to be back!

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"Um, well, you see," Glorfindel flailed.

"Glorfindel?"

The blond jumped and turned hurriedly, welcoming Elladan with a grin so wide it made the younger elf suspicious. He knew Glorfindel, and Glorfindel was never this happy to see him. Bronwe's involvement only drove that point home.

"I'll go," he said sweetly, "I do not want to disturb you."

"No, no, Elladan, your presence is required here," Glorfindel called frantically, dragging him back bodily by the arm, "Bronwe here has a question for us; do you not, pen-dithen? Now, ask Elladan and I am sure he will explain everything."

Bronwe sighed in a long suffering manner, bored and irritated. It had been a simple question. Surely it was not some great secret? "Why do big elves kiss with their tongues?" she repeated in a lack-lustre voice.

Elladan's eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. Glorfindel kindly kicked him very gently on the ankle and jerked his head expressively to her. "You are not ancient, mellon nín. Surely you remember how to speak with an eight-year-old?"

"About the facts of life?" Elladan hissed, agitatedly, "I cannot do this!"

Bronwe looked from one to the other and slipped out of her seat in the library, running quietly away while the two males argued. It always happened so, she knew. Trotting happily down the hallway, she ran into Arwen and Aragon- literally! In fact, she ended by turning a corner and smacking Aragorn in the leg.

Once the mortal had stifled his initial reaction to cursing whatever it was digging nails into his shin, he bend down and picked her up, laughing as he teased her. "Look, Arwen. It's an elfling escaped from her lessons."

Arwen tsked right along with him, smiling her gentle smile as she ruffled the indignant elfling's hair with a soft hand. Bronwe noticed that the pendant around her elder sister's neck was missing. It had been her pride and joy, that necklace. Perhaps she had removed it for fear of losing it? Bronwe swept it from her mind as she tried to jump down and scamper off.

"Put me down," she demanded, wriggling like a fish.

Aragorn grabbed her and held her tight in his arms. "And where will you go?" he asked.

"Outside," she snapped, folding her arms in a huff, "Want to see the snow."

"Bronwe, you are not allowed to wander without at least your thick boots," Arwen reprimanded, "And you know Ada does not like you to go outside alone. Anything could happen to you and who would know?"

Aragorn shifted a little nervously. It had not been so many years in elfish time since he had done much the same as Bronwe. Elrond had eventually threatened to tie him to the table if he didn't stop sneaking out of his lessons. In all consciousness, he could not be so hypocritical.

"Yes, Arwen," Bronwe said meekly, subsiding into his arms. Soft lips trembled as the blue eyes looked woebegone. "But Glorfindel is arguing with Elladan."

Arwen raised an eyebrow, and looked at her love with a half-mischievous, half-frantic look. It was the look of a sister who has survived the wars of pranks and counter-pranks that followed any such argument between her father's seneschal and her brothers. Elladan, of course, was preferable to Elrohir, but that was not by much. Both were stubborn and both were creative, only matched by Glorfindel. Even Erestor had eventually given up against the twins, but not Glorfindel! Oh no, he had beaten the Balrog and he had made sure he drew a tie with his new opponents.

"I see," she sighed, "Well, dress warmly and Estel and I will take you out. Will that do?"

Bronwe gave a happy cry and took off running as soon as she was set down.

Aragorn watched her retreat with a thoughtful look on his face before thinking to call after her- "What were Glorfindel and Elladan arguing about?"

Bronwe turned around and shrugged. "About why big elves kiss with their tongues," she replied loudly, much to the scandal of a passing servant.

Arwen burst out laughing and Aragorn leaned heavily against the wall. He didn't even want to think about the connotations of that conversation. Elbereth's stars, but was half of Imladris attracted to the same sex? He did not have a problem with it, but Glorfindel of all people! The Elf Lord was as sexually straight-laced as a plank of wood!

By the time afternoon descended and Elladan met up with a still-flustered Aragorn, the edain was willing to strangle his eldest foster brother. "What possessed you," he demanded, "To put such an idea in her head? She has been dropping references to kisses and tongues and making love all over Imladris. And in the most casual little way! Lord Elrond will have your head for it."

"Lord Elrond?" Elladan gurgled in devilish amusement. "I do not think Ada can do that."

There was something afoot. Aragorn was not often as perceptive as he would like to be, but even he sensed something here. He narrowed his eyes and squinted at the smug face before him, noting the lazy posture and the arrogantly tilted head. Elladan only ever looked like that when he was about to have some fun with a secret no one else knew.

"And why cannot Lord Elrond do anything to you?"

"The Lord of Imladris, my revered Estel, is extraordinarily busy," Elladan smirked, "With the Prince of Mirkwood."

"No!" Aragorn's eyes went wide again and he clutched at Elladan, dragging him into the nearest room and shutting the door. Since they were in the family wing in any case there was little chance that any passing elf would overhear their conversation. He ignored the fact that they were in a dusty guest bedroom and pushed Elladan down on the bed. "Tell me all," he urged.

Elladan chuckled at the sight of his little brother turned into an avid gossipmonger. But he supposed it was only to be expected. Aragorn never pried into any business unless it concerned his family or his best friends. In this case, it concerned members from both categories. It was probably like a festival day for the human.

"I entered the library looking for my book," Elladan began, eyes sparking at Aragorn's expressive smirk, "Yes, that book, Aragorn. Elrohir had needed it for some, uh, research on a difficult case. He left it in the library, the orc-brained menace. However, I went in to retrieve it and Glorfindel was panicking. It seems Bronwe asked him why adults kissed with their tongues. He pushed me to explain. I didn't know how..."

"What does this have to do with Ada?" Estel demanded, grabbing his brother in his impatience.

"Wait, wait, oh impatient one," Elladan laughed, stilling the hands on his shoulders, "He asked me to explain and I was caught up in a panic too, trying to imagine what to say without being too crude. Bronwe slipped from us while Glorfindel and I argued about it. One thing was said, and then another, and I threatened to make Ada do all the explaining. Glorfindel only grinned."

"Well?"

"It seems he met Bronwe wondering around the hallways early in the morning and offered to go with her to Ada's rooms. He said he was worried for her solemn little face. Be that as it may, he received no answer to his knock and so opened the outer door. He saw Ada and Legolas together."

"Together?"

Elladan winced as the grip on his shoulders tightened to vices. "Yes," he grit out through clenched teeth, "Now let go!"

Aragorn paid no heed to him, only began to cheerfully shake him once more. "Do you know what this means?" he shouted, "Legolas will finally stop snapping my head off and Ada will finally stop asking me all manner of questions every time I return from the forests of Mirkwood! I will finally be able to spend more time with Arwen instead of telling Ada every move that Legolas made when I was with him! And at night I can sleep without Legolas mourning his unrequited love! I can dream in peace!"

The ranger was obviously overjoyed. So overjoyed that he jumped on top of his brother and embraced him, laughing with delight. Elladan shouted, only to have his air supply cut off by a badly placed arm around his neck and the full weight of the human jumping on his not-quite-healed ribs. He almost wept with relief to see Elrohir enter the room and stare at the two of them.

"Don't... stare," he yelled, "Help!"

Elrohir pulled the still elated Aragorn off his twin and patted him soothingly on the back. "We understand fully, Aragorn. You are unhinged, are you not?"

"Yes, I... what? No! I am happy- happy as a lark, as a flower in spring, as a mother at the sight of her newborn... as an orc at its first kill even."

Elrohir and Elladan watched Aragorn dance down the corridor, a smile on his lips and his eyes shining with love for all humanity.

"He should never write poetry," Elrohir commented, "Orc, indeed. Arwen won't be happy to know she is a murdered elf to his orc."


End file.
